


Making a Living

by Deejaymil



Series: Original Stories by a Bored Australian [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, I borrowed Death, I'll give him back though, dark humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7526236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deejaymil/pseuds/Deejaymil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hi, friend!” Bill shouted, as though Death was across the park from him, rather than mere inches away. The exclamation marks were audible. “What’s your name?”</p><p>DEATH said Death.</p><p>Bill paused. There was a long moment where the smile flickered and grew uncertain, as some small part of him remembered enough to be afraid. Then he ignored it. Humans always did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making a Living

**Author's Note:**

> Original flash fiction for the prompt 'Humour, Hackeysack, Playground'
> 
> I cannot small caps. I AM NOT COMPETENT IN AO3 MAGIC.

 

This job was turning into a nightmare.

A sticky, vaguely malic acid flavoured bubble-gum nightmare, and it was oozing through the thin metatarsals of his right foot. Death knew he should have sat by the nearby river instead of the play equipment. This always happened.

 **BOTHER**  said Death, scraping his foot against the foot of the park bench he was sitting on.

A shadow loomed overhead. Death looked up to find the troop leader standing in front of him, with a bark chip from the nearby playground on his trouser cuff and a sticker on his chest with ‘HI MY NAME IS BILL!!!’ underlined three times, as though the excess of exclamation marks wasn’t quite enough for emphasis.

He had the kind of wide-toothed smile that Death had seen before, although generally powering around under the ocean rather than running Motivational Seminars for adults in the local park.

“Hi, friend!” Bill shouted, as though Death was across the park from him, rather than mere inches away. The exclamation marks were audible. “What’s your name?”

 **DEATH** said Death.

Bill paused. There was a long moment where the smile flickered and grew uncertain, as some small part of him remembered enough to be afraid. Then he ignored it. Humans always did.

“With a ‘ph’ or an ‘f’?” he asked, scribbling something on a piece of paper. The smile reappeared, twice as bright and tinged with the ragged edge of insanity.

Death stared at him. Nearby, a small child was being shooed off the playground by a woman in high heels, whose bulbous rolls of fat were being contained with great difficulty by a tight black dress. The kid bolted away, shouted, and vanished into the bushes. Death envied him his freedom.

Bill just stared back and patted a sticker onto the chest of Death’s robes. “Good show, friend!” he said brightly, still shouting. “Don’t miss out on the physical trust exercises! They’re to die for!”

The sticker said ‘HI MY NAME IS STEPH!!!’

 **OH, GOODY**  said Death.

 

* * *

 

“Are you a magician?” said the small child from before, sidling up next to Death and rubbing a grubby sleeve over his damp face. “You’re dressed funny.”

 **I AM EVERYTHING**  Death told him, reaching into his own pocket and handing him his spare hankie. He cannot abide sticky children.  **WIPE YOUR NOSE**

The child took the hankie and scrubbed it ineffectually across his mouth. Death sighed, and quickly glanced over at the businessmen, before taking it back.

 **BLOW**  he said, holding it gingerly in front of the offending appendage.

“Do you have magic?” the child asked after complying, scrambling up onto the bench next to Death.

 **I AM OMNIPOTENT.**   **THAT IS FAR GREATER THAN HAVING MAGIC**

The child wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think it is. Is it like being a superhero?”

**I AM NEITHER SUPER, NOR PARTICULARLY HEROIC**

Death kept his gaze on the seminar, waiting. The fat woman struggled to sit on the swing while a nervous looking colleague held his arms out ready to catch her. An inexplicable hackeysack balanced precariously on her head, wobbling promisingly.

“You’re boring,” the child announced, expression turning disinterested. “I bet you don’t even have _any_ powers, just silly clothes.”

Death watched as the woman fell from the swing with a shriek, dress threatening to give up its valiant fight to contain her girth. Bill hurried over, speaking loudly with his hands and aiming all of his considerable exuberance at the weedy man who’d failed to catch her.

The surety in the child’s voice almost stung. Of all things he’d been called in the past, boring had never before been one of them.

 **I CAN SEE THROUGH PEOPLE**  Death said, before promptly doing so. The woman had a mole on her left buttock, a benign cyst on her liver and the propensity to cry while watching nature documentaries. He stopped looking. He generally avoided looking before his job was done.

“Like, X-ray vision? Like Superman?” The kid was much more excited now, tugging on Death’s wide sleeve.

 **I SEE THROUGH PEOPLE TO THE POTIENTIAL OF WHAT THEY COULD BE, AND WILL NEVER QUITE MANAGE TO ACHIEVE**  

At some point, a white board with ASPIRATIONS scribbled across it had been set up by the slide. Bill seemed enthused about it. No one else was. Death took a moment to be glad of his self-employment.

“That’s boring,” the child declared, disappointment colouring his tone.

Death thought about it.

 **I GUESS IT IS**  he said eventually, settling back onto the bench and waiting.

 

* * *

 

“Do you have any pets?” the child asked eventually, fidgeting in the silence. “I had a cat, but Mum said she had to go away.”

**I HAVE A HORSE**

“What’s his name?”

**BINKY**

“That’s a stupid name for a horse.”

**IT IS NOT**

The child sneezed. Death would have rolled his eyes, if he had any. He handed him back the hankie. “You’re weird,” the child said, voice thick and snotty.

**DULY NOTED**

 

* * *

 

Half the seminar had been issued blindfolds, and the other half were throwing hackeysacks at them. Bill glanced over at Death once, who hurriedly folded space around the park bench and hid them from view.

He wasn’t much one for participating.

“It’s getting late,” the child said, squinting up at the sun. “Mum will be making tea soon. Sausages, probably. I hate sausages. Do you have a mum?”

**ALL CREATURES HAVE MOTHERS**

“Is she weird like you?”

Death glared at the child. He seemed unperturbed. And still sticky.

A stray hackeysack flew past, hitting the bank and rolling behind the bushes shielding the river from view. Death stood as a few stragglers from the seminar wandered reluctantly over to it. He tapped the child’s shoulder.  **IT IS TIME TO GO. COME ALONG**

“I’m not supposed to go with strangers,” the child said, watching the nervous looking man push through the bushes. Death knew that a scream would soon follow. He didn’t need to wait for that.

**I AM NOT A STRANGER. ALL MEN ONE DAY KNOW ME. SOME SOONER THAN OTHERS**

He peeled off the sticker and dropped it into the bin next to the bench. It stuck to the rim, the end of ‘EPH!!!’ barely visible.

“Okay,” the child said, and took Death’s hand. “But mum is going to be really mad if I’m late.”

**DULY NOTED**

They leave the park together.


End file.
